


shut up and dance with me

by skywalking-across-the-galaxy (BadWolfGirl01)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Clone Wars, Dancing, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt, a fluffy smol thing, in which Obi and Cody talk about dancing, this is literally just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 19:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17814497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfGirl01/pseuds/skywalking-across-the-galaxy
Summary: “Excuse me, sir, but-” Cody stops, blinking, and Obi-Wan lets himself smile, just a touch, watching his Commander shift in place, only a slight flush on Cody’s cheek and the hint of embarrassment in the Force belying his emotions. “Can you… repeat that? Please?”“As I’m sure you’re aware,” Obi-Wan begins again, smooth, “I am frequently sent on diplomatic missions that require me to… wine and dine, shall we say, planetary governments. As you’ve been my escort on a few such missions, I think it’d be prudent of me to teach you how to dance.”[or: in which Obi-Wan teaches Cody how to dance]





	shut up and dance with me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [piepeloe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/piepeloe/gifts).



> piepeloe asked:
> 
> If you're still bored and taking prompts: Codywan, where Obi-Wan insists it's necessary he teaches Cody how to dance. Because diplomacy, of course. Thank you!

“Excuse me, sir, but-” Cody stops, blinking, and Obi-Wan lets himself smile, just a touch, watching his Commander shift in place, only a slight flush on Cody’s cheek and the hint of  _ embarrassment _ in the Force belying his emotions. “Can you… repeat that? Please?”

“As I’m sure you’re aware,” Obi-Wan begins again, smooth, “I am frequently sent on diplomatic missions that require me to… wine and dine, shall we say, planetary governments. As you’ve been my escort on a few such missions, I think it’d be prudent of me to teach you how to dance.”

“You heard the General,” Boil says, casual as can be - he, Waxer, Elek, and Kato are all leaning against the wall of the  _ vode’s _ main training room outside the simulation room. “What, Commander, is dancing too fancy for you?”

Cody splutters, twists to glare at Boil, and Obi-Wan shamelessly takes the opportunity to admire the bunch of muscles in Cody’s shoulder, just visible beneath the skin-tight blacks - it’s not often he sees his Commander out of full armor, even in times like these, on board the  _ Negotiator _ on a long hyperspace flight from Coruscant to the Outer Rim. He has to take all the chances he can  _ get, _ after all - no one could blame him for staring a bit, least of all Anakin or  _ Ahsoka. _ If either of them got any more obvious, Obi-Wan’s  _ plausible deniability _ would fly right out the window.  _ “Ne’johaa, _ Boil,” Cody growls. “As it so  _ happens, _ I am perfectly fine with learning how to dance - if the General thinks it’s necessary, of course.” There’s a stiffness in Cody’s jaw and shoulder that tells Obi-Wan his Commander isn’t entirely  _ comfortable _ with the whole situation - or perhaps just with his audience.

“I do,” Obi-Wan says agreeably, “although I’d never push you to do something you weren’t comfortable with, Cody.”

“I know, sir,” Cody says, turning back to face him, the motion just a bit too practiced and smooth. “So what’re you teaching me?”

Obi-Wan smiles, says, “There’s a gala being held on Alderaan next week - it’s a fundraiser for relief funding for Chalacta, a war-stricken planet in the Mid Rim. The Council has asked me to be their representative.”

“And you want me to come along,” Cody says, wryly.

“Yes, in fact,” Obi-Wan says, nodding. “I thought we’d start with an Alderaanian waltz and progress from there.” He pauses, adds, “It’d be good for public perception of your brothers as well, if you went, Cody.”

The war propaganda seems to positively delight in leaving clones as faceless soldiers only better than the droids by virtue of the paint on their armor and the Republic insignia on their blacks and the barcodes on their skin. Obi-Wan has hopes that by the end of the war, perhaps there will be a change of heart - presenting the clones as the ones who  _ won _ the war (the war no one really wanted in the first place) will hopefully have an impact. (And he already knows his hopes are mostly unfounded.)

“I’ll go,” Cody says, almost lightly. “You going to show me how to not make a  _ di’kut _ of myself, General?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Obi-Wan says, soft, and places a hand on Cody’s shoulder. “I’ll talk you through the steps before putting some music on.”

Cody smiles, a little curl at the corner of his mouth, settles a hand on Obi-Wan’s hip and steps in closer. “I follow where you lead,” he says, not-quite-wry, too much warmth in his eyes for the dryness in his voice.

Obi-Wan swallows, something soft and sentimental bubbling up in his throat. “You might be the one leading,” he manages, too warm. Everything is  _ warm _ \- Cody’s hand on his hip, the light in Cody’s eyes, the flush in Obi-Wan’s own cheeks he can’t seem to get rid of. Cody is so close - how did that happen? His throat is dry.

“If you think I can,” Cody says, although he looks a bit doubtful, and that won’t do at all.

Obi-Wan raises a hand to Cody’s cheek, light, brushes his fingers over Cody’s scar. “I know you can,” he murmurs.

_ “Sir-” _ Cody’s voice is strangled. Obi-Wan lets himself smile (smirk, maybe - but who could blame him?), leans in and presses a swift, light kiss to his Commander’s forehead, grinning wider at the flush on Cody’s cheek and the awed look in his amber eyes. Pulls back, returns his hand to Cody’s shoulder, meets Cody’s eyes (and Waxer and Boil are promptly forgotten).

“Shall we begin?”


End file.
